Just to Know That I'm Alive
by x-the-rising-x
Summary: It’s as if their dancing around the true nature of what this discussion should be about, and Lucas realizes that it’s been so long since they’ve talked about something real. BL.oneshot.future


_**A/N: **_Some BL drabble that I wrote instead of updating Soon Enough. I know, I'm sorry. But I had this idea in my head that I couldn't get rid of. It takes place immediately after the LP wedding, and is told from Lucas's perspective.

**Just to Know That I'm Alive**

_Do you dream, that the world will know your name?_

_So tell me your name_

_And do you care, about all the little things or anything at all?_

_I wanna feel, all the chemicals inside I wanna' feel_

_I wanna sunburn, just to know that I'm alive_

_To know I'm alive_

Down here, in the harbor, the sand isn't nearly as soft, and the shore is rockier than out by the beach. The waves are smaller – kinder – and the boats dock farther inland. If you look out past the cove that they're situated in, the ocean stretch out for thousands of miles, and the horizon is enveloped in the warm sunset. It's barely 6pm, and he's tired.

Quiet banter and laughter floats its way down from the reception tent, but Lucas decides to step away from it momentarily. It's been awhile since he's watched the sun set.

He's mildly surprised, although not shocked, when he finds her, perched on a boulder, eyes locked on the dark blue of the rolling ocean. He pauses, momentarily, stuck between approaching her and turning back around. The latter is almost chosen, until he realizes that this is nearly the end of the road – and more opportunities like this are limited.

"Hiding?"

She looks up quickly, as if his presence surprised her. A beat of uncertainty, and then she lets out a short laugh. He deposits himself on the rock next to her, and she shifts slightly to give him more room.

"I guess I just came out here to think."

"I know the feeling."

_Don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna' know_

_If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go_

_Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon_

_Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon_

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, as the sun slowly begins to dip below the horizon, and the seagulls fly low over the ocean, ever so often skimming the tops of the waves.

"It's all ending now, isn't it?"

He turns to look at her, but her gaze is still locked on the water. She has this faraway look in her eyes – like she's been gone and lost for so long, and is finally coming to terms with it.

"Maybe it's just beginning."

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. The curls, which she had done for the wedding, have pretty much fallen out by now. "I think it's really just the end of the beginning."

It's as if their dancing around the true nature of what this discussion should be about, and Lucas realizes that it's been so long since they've talked about something real. When she speaks nowadays, her words are shrouded in regret and denial. They are softer, and almost beaten down as if they've seen the weight of the world.

_Do you believe, in the day that you were born?_

_Tell me, do you believe?_

_And do you know, that everyday's the first of the rest of your life?_

"You don't have to leave, you know. You could always stay." It would be selfish to ask her to, because honestly Lucas is afraid she would say yes. He is afraid she would give in, and completely annihilate the independent woman she's spent so long trying to become.

She looks down into her lap. The vibrancy of her red dress, he realizes, is a cool contrast to her soft-spoken and composed disposition. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm running from some phantom demon, or chasing some unattainable glory."

"I think we all feel that way."

"I can't stay, Lucas." She looks at him for the first time in minutes. Her hazel eyes look slightly red, and he has to wonder if she's been crying. "I think I've been waiting 23 years for my life to start, and it still hasn't."

"This is home."

"This is _your _home. This is _Peyton's _home. This is where you two belong." She looks forward again. "But look at Nathan and Haley. This isn't their home anymore."

"They're only moving to Charlotte. It's not nearly as far as New York."

"We grew up, Luke." She sighs, and plays with the material on her dress. "We can't hold on to a past that doesn't exist anymore. None of us can. I need to start my life."

Now he just watches her. He tries to outline every feature and curve of her face and body – take a mental snapshot and store it deep in his mind, so he'll never forget. No matter what either of them say, this is the end. It's the end of an adolescence that revolved around the friendship of a core group of five teenagers. It's the end of high school love, and high school heartache. It's time to grow up.

_Don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna' know_

_If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go_

_Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon_

_Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon_

"Will you be home for Christmas?"

She nods and swallows. And this is where it begins. He knows that she'll keep her promise. She'll be home for the occasional visit – for holidays and birthdays. He knows she'll be here to watch Jamie turn 7 and 8, and maybe 9.

Then she'll be gone. Caught up in the life that almost stole her away before. Only last time, she returned to Tree Hill to try and find a part of herself that she lost. Simply to be met by the gruesome realization that maybe she'll always feel this empty.

He loosens his tie. It's been a long day. A cool breeze angles off the water and hits the two of them from their perch on the rock. Brooke shivers involuntarily, and he can see goose bumps rise on her arms. He moves to take off his jacket.

She holds up her hand. "I'm fine. But thanks."

"Are you happy, Brooke?"

She smiles. "I think the champagne from the wedding has helped considerably."

He sighs, partly exasperated and sick of her dancing around the subject. "You know what I mean."

She looks at him, curiously almost, as if wondering why he's taken so long to ask her. And then she shrugs. "Sometimes." Her eyes glaze over, lost in a series of thoughts he'll never know about. "_We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."_

Lucas smiles. "I'm surprised you still remember that."

Brooke seems to decide on something, and then reaches down next to her for her purse. Rummaging around for a minute, she produces a small slip of paper. It's creased, as if it's been unfolded and refolded hundreds of times. Scribbled in Lucas's messy scrawl is the familiar Oscar Wilde quote.

"You kept this?" he asks in a strangled voice, sounding oddly conflicted.

Brooke flashes a soft smile. "You pressed it into my hand at graduation and then whispered to me that you hoped that whenever I looked at it, I would think of you."

"And did you?"

She doesn't need to nod, because they both already know the answer.

"You know how much I loved you, right?"

Despite the fact that it's the first time since perhaps their breakup, that either of them have even come close to alluding to their relationship, the question really should catch Brooke off guard. Surprisingly though, judging by the way she meets his eyes with her own, it doesn't. Her gaze is full of forgiveness and understanding, but mainly of acceptance. She swallows and nods.

_This is to one last day in the shadows_

_And to know a brother's love_

_This is to New York City angels_

_And the rivers of our blood_

_This is to all of us, to all of us_

"I think everyone reaches a moment in their lives where they stop aiming for the ideal, and learns to settle. In essence, we're all lost souls, but I think there are very few of us who are willing to accept the tragedies of life, while managing to move on in the process."

Her words are thoughtful and carefully picked out, like she's treading on thin ice that she doesn't want to break. Lucas nods and looks down at the ring on his finger. It feels right – like this is how it was supposed to be from the beginning – but slightly more heavy than it had before.

"You deserve more than I could ever give you."

She doesn't react to his last words – simply lets a sad smile play across her face as she once again turns her attention to the ocean.

Tonight, it ends. He realizes this as her eyes follow the waves breaking along the shoreline. Any strings or threads that have kept any of them from hanging on to the past have been broken. They are all moving on. They are _all _growing up. Nathan and Haley and Jamie leave for Charlotte next week. Peyton and him will be going on their honeymoon tomorrow, and then returning for life in Tree Hill in 6 days. She will continue her record label – he will write more books. He will coach basketball, and someday she will be pregnant. They will have two children, maybe three, and they will be happy.

They will be happy, but what is happiness? Is it merely a drug? A state of being that prevents the receiver from feeling passion or love or pain? Because pain is beautiful. Love is painful. And it's been so long that he's felt that sort of heart-wrenching, strangely-addictive pain, that he's starting to wonder whether or not he ever has.

But then he looks at her and knows that he has.

_What will become of you? _He resists the urge to ask her, and instead accepts the fact that he'll spend the rest of his life wondering. He also realizes, however, that he will also _forever _live with this memory: the two of them on the shore as the last drip of sunshine descends behind the horizon. The end of the beginning. Or perhaps the beginning of the end.

_So don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna' know_

_If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go_

_Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon_

_Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon_

"I used to regret and despise all the pain and suffering." She looks up at him. "Not anymore. I think we have to go through this stuff, you know? To get to the places we want to be."

A small smile plays at the corner of her lips as she recites something he told her on a night that seems like years ago. And he wishes he could nod and play along, but a lump has developed in his throat, as he realizes that this whole conversation has been a goodbye.

He stands. He doesn't know the next time he'll see her, or if he ever will. Like she said, they're growing up. They're moving on. None of them are the teenagers that they used to be.

"Bye Brooke."

"Goodnight, Luke." Her goodbye is soft and level – similar to the tone she has been carrying this whole evening, although now her words are draped in a layer of sadness.

He can't leave it this way.

"Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always."

She smiles, losing herself in his eyes. "Dante, right?"

He nods.

_Yeah, you can tell me all your thoughts_

_About the stars that fill polluted skies_

_And show me where you run to_

_When no one's left to take your side_

_But don't tell me where the road ends_

_'Cause I just don't wanna' know,_

_No I don't wanna' know_

For the last time, she returns her gaze to the ocean, which tosses with the uncertainty that is so akin to life itself. And then she begins to speak.

"Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always. A promise. Like a reward for persisting through life so long alone. A belief in each other and the possibility of love. A decision to ignore, simply rise above the pain of the past. A covenant, which at once binds two souls and yet severs prior ties. A celebration of the chance taken and the challenge that lies ahead. For two will always be stronger than one, like a team braced against the tempest civil world. And love will always be the guiding force in our lives. For tonight is mere formality. Only an announcement to the world of feelings long held. Promises made long ago. In the sacred spaces of our hearts."

"That was my speech from Keith's wedding," he responds when she's done reciting, dumbfounded that she remembers it all.

Brooke smiles and nods, but doesn't say anything else. His time to leave is fast approaching, and it kills him to have to walk away from her. But finally, he turns, the image of her perched alone on that boulder – his pretty girl in a red dress – forever burned into his mind.

"When you think of that, think of me." His words seem to be swallowed by the sound of waves crashing, and as he begins to walk away, he wonders whether or not she's heard him.

And then he realizes it doesn't matter. Eventually, they'll all forget, anyway.

_Don't tell me if I'm dying_

---

_**Please Review.**_ It would mean the world to me.


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